


A Little Impromptu Pomp and Circumstance

by zinke



Category: Castle, West Wing
Genre: Crossover, F/M, Humor, Prompt Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-06
Updated: 2011-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We’re about to meet the President of the United States! Even you have to be just a little bit flapped about that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Impromptu Pomp and Circumstance

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for flamingo55, winner of the tiaras4tatas fanworks auction wherein I offered fic in exchange for donations to the Susan G. Komen Foundation. She provided me with the following prompt: _There's got to be some way to crossover Castle with West Wing. I would love, love, love for it to be both Castle/Beckett and CJ/Simon._ Hopefully, what I’ve come up with fits the bill (and now I have Schoolhouse Rock’s ‘I’m Just a Bill’ stuck in my head.). *g*
> 
> Thanks go, as always, to gabolange and nnaylime for the suggestions and advice.

From her seat on the couch, Beckett watches Castle complete yet another circuit of the anteroom. He’s been in constant motion from the moment they arrived at One Police Plaza almost a half hour ago: fidgeting with his tie, rearranging the knickknacks on the Commissioner’s Secretary’s desk, and now pacing.

“Castle would you just sit down or something? You’re driving me crazy.”

Castle stops mid-circuit and turns to eye her incredulously. “Tell me you’re not nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” she parrots back, holding his gaze a moment longer before busying herself with rearranging the uniform cap and gloves in her lap.

“You’re lying.”

“Castle—”

“We’re about to meet the President of the United States!” Castle hisses, casting a significant glance at the salt-and-pepper haired Secret Service agent standing by the Commissioner’s office door. “Even you have to be just a little bit flapped about that.”

Beckett fights to suppress a smile. “Flapped?”

“Unflappable; flapped... You’re really going to give me a hard time about my word choice _now_?”

“Castle, you’ve spent your entire life hob-knobbing with the upper crust of New York society. You’re poker buddies with the Mayor. How is this any different?”

“It’s the _President_.”

“And he’s a person just like anybody else.”

“Know a lot of Nobel Laureates with access to their very own nuclear arsenal, do you?”

Beckett glares at him in response. Before either of them can say anything more, the door to the Commissioner’s office opens and the President’s Press Secretary steps through. “He’s ready for you,” she says with a smile.

Kate is on her feet in an instant, her eyes wide and back ramrod straight. She can feel Castle’s gaze on her as she slips on her cap and fumbles with her gloves. The dark look Beckett sends him does little to remove the bemused smirk from his lips. “Not nervous my ass,” Castle whispers in her ear as together they fall into step, the agent who’d been watching them following close behind.

Inside, they find the Police Commissioner, Mayor and Captain Montgomery situated in a loose semi-circle behind the Commissioner’s desk. In front of it, standing with his hands clasped loosely behind his back, is Jed Bartlet, President of the United States.

“Mr. President,” CJ Cregg begins, “may I introduce—.”

“Detective Beckett and Richard Castle,” the President finishes, extending his hand to each of them in turn. “Your reputations – both on and off the page – precede you.”

Kate feels herself blush. “Thank you, sir.”

President Bartlet looks between the two of them and leans in conspiratorially. “Tell me the truth, Mr. Castle; did you really just reach in there and yank out _all_ the wires?”

Castle glances at Beckett and nods. “Yes sir.”

“And here I thought a crime novelist as accomplished as yourself would know that in situations like these it’s always the blue wire.”

“True. Unless, of course, it’s the red one,” Castle remarks with a smirk.

The President chuckles. “Indeed.” He inclines his head towards a young man standing nearby. “Charlie?” He steps forward to hand the President the first of two blue velvet boxes.

“Detective Katherine Beckett,” President Bartlet begins, opening the box to remove a blue ribbon with red and white edging and a gold medallion embossed with the letter ‘V’ at the center, “For actions above and beyond the call of duty; for exhibiting exceptional courage and presence of mind in the most dire of circumstances without regard for personal safety I, President Josiah Bartlet award you the United States Public Safety Officer Medal of Valor.”

He carefully affixes the ribbon to her uniform before taking the second box and pinning a gilt medallion suspended on a ribbon of blue and white stripes to the lapel of Castle’s jacket. “Richard Castle, it is my privilege to present you with the Presidential Citizens Medal in recognition of the exemplary deeds you have performed on behalf of your country and fellow citizens.”

President Bartlet steps back and takes him time meeting first Beckett’s, then Castle’s gaze. “You both are a credit to your family, friends, colleagues and country. Thank you, on behalf of those who will never know just how much you have done for them.”

The formalities concluded, the others in attendance join the President in giving them a round of applause.

“I wanted to throw you guys a party,” President Bartlet comments sourly once the din has died down, “but my National Security Advisor wouldn’t let me.”

Castle gives him an empathetic look. “Stick in the mud?”

The off-hand comment earns him an appalled look from Beckett. But President Bartlet merely laughs. “You have no idea.” The President’s expression turns thoughtful. “CJ, what time is that thing we have tonight?”

The fundraiser?”

“That’s the one.”

“Eight o’clock, sir.”

The President turns to Beckett and Castle, grinning eagerly. “You two should come.”

Castle’s brow furrows in confusion. “To what?”

“The Starlight Children’s Foundation’s Annual Gala at the Waldorf-Astoria,” CJ replies. “It shouldn’t be any trouble to add you both to the President’s personal guest list.”

Beckett glances uncertainly at the members of the President’s staff, none of whom appear at all surprised by the impromptu invitation.

“Don’t worry,” President Bartlet says, noticing her unease, “I do this sort of thing all the time. They’re used to it.” CJ and Charlie nod their agreement as behind them, the salt-and-pepper haired Secret Service agent shares a bemused glance with one of his dark-suited colleagues and begins speaking softly into his microphone.

Kate licks her lips. “Mr. President, I don’t—”

“Detective,” he interrupts, “you and Mr. Castle prevented the detonation of a dirty bomb in the heart of Manhattan, saving thousands of lives. The least I can do is buy you both a drink.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“There they are.” CJ inclines her champagne flute in the direction of the entryway.

Simon tugs at the cuff of his shirt sleeve and scans the crowded ballroom. “Who?”

“The people from the thing this morning.”

“The detective and the writer?”

CJ nods and watches as Castle chivalrously slips Beckett’s wrap from her shoulders. “Detective Beckett cleans up nicely,” she comments, casting an appreciative eye over Kate’s sleek, gun metal grey Badgley Mischka dress.

“She certainly does.”

Narrowing her eyes, CJ gives Simon a pointed look before returning her attention to the pair still standing uncertainly in the ballroom’s entryway. “I suppose I should go over there and say hello.”

“Might be nice.”

“Yeah.” CJ has set down her glass and is already moving into the crowd when she stops and arches an imperious eyebrow at Simon. “You coming?”

Across the room, Beckett sucks in a breath as her gaze lands on a pair of austere looking men in basic black tuxedoes shaking hands a few feet away.

“Is that the—?”

“Uh-huh,” Castle says, nodding absently as he continues to stare.

“And the—?”

“I think so.”

Beckett glances down at herself, then at the man standing beside her. “Castle? What the hell are we doing here?”

He grins and, taking her hand, slips it into the crook of his arm. “Serving at the pleasure of the President, of course.” Glancing up, Castle spots CJ Cregg moving towards them, followed closely by a man Castle assumes is her date. Giving Kate’s fingers a squeeze, he leads Beckett forward to greet them. “Ms. Cregg. Good to see you again.”

“And you. We’re glad you were both able to make it.”

“Well as I was just saying to Detective Beckett, when you’ve been given a Presidential order to party, the only question should be ‘how hard?’.”

“’How hard, _sir_ ,’” CJ counters with a grin.

“I stand corrected.” A look of recognition crosses Castle’s features as his attention turns to the man standing next to her. “And judging by the protection you’ve got with you, I’d say the answer is pretty damn hard.”

“I’m off duty tonight. A person just like anybody else,” Simon says, giving Castle and Beckett a knowing grin.

Impressed, Castle nods and extends his hand. “Good memory, Agent…?”

“Donovan. Simon Donovan,” Simon replies, shaking Castle’s hand before turning to Beckett. “Have you ever considered joining the agency, Detective Beckett? We can always use someone like you who’s not afraid to think outside the box.”

“You could be like…a super-cop,” Castle breathes, his tone a mixture of excitement and awe.

Kate rolls her eyes and smiles. “Thanks, but I’m perfectly happy being just a regular cop.”

“In my experience,” Simon says, “there isn’t ‘just’ anything about being a police officer.”

Beckett regards the agent curiously. “You were on the force?”

“Chicago. I spent a few years in the Counterterrorism and Intelligence Division before joining the agency.”

Castle nods. “Keeping the Windy City safe from the likes of Al Capone and John Dillinger, huh?”

Simon gives him a strange look, then takes a sip of his drink. “Something like that.”

“So,” Castle begins brightly after a pregnant pause, “are you two…?”

“Castle!” Beckett smacks him soundly on the arm.

“What? It’s a perfectly innocuous question!”

“For you, maybe. Not everyone wants to have their personal lives splashed across Page Six.”

“It’s not like I have Cindy Adams on speed dial.”

“That’s not the point—”

“I think the better question is,” CJ interrupts, eyeing the pair speculatively, “are _you_?”

“No,” Kate replies briskly, just as Castle answers, “Yes.”

Beckett fixes Castle with an indignant look. “Yes?”

“What I meant was…”

Grinning, CJ steps closer and threads her arm through Simon’s as together they watch Castle try to dig himself out of the hole he’s inadvertently found himself in. “See how I did that there?” she comments sotto voce.

“I did,” Simon replies with an appreciative nod. “And may I say: nice moves.”

“You think that’s something, you should see what I can do on a dance floor.”

Simon gives Castle a brief, sympathetic look before turning to take CJ’s hand in his. “Lead the way.”

“Smart man.” CJ casts a significant look over Simon’s shoulder at Castle as they make their way through the crowd. “You could teach him a thing or two.”

Slipping his arm around her waist, Simon pulls CJ closer as they begin to sway in time to the music. As they dance, he spies Castle leading smiling, blushing Kate Beckett onto the dance floor. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says as he watches them move together, “Rick Castle seems like a smart guy. I’m sure he’ll figure it out. Eventually.”

 

*fin.*


End file.
